


the raw and tender mess of it all

by forever_nerd



Series: February fun 2021 [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angry Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Angry Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Clothed Sex, Devil Form sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fools in Love, Fuckruary 2021 (Lucifer TV), Oral Sex, POV Chloe Decker, Post-Season/Series 05, Protective Lucifer, Rough Sex, Stubborn Chloe Decker, Written before 5 B, devil bod, language competence kink
Language: Ελληνικά
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_nerd/pseuds/forever_nerd
Summary: She watches him as he stands on the balcony, eyes staring aimlessly at the dark sky. He asked her to stay away, voice shaking, eyes blood red. And she did. Not for her sake, but for his.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: February fun 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141664
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	the raw and tender mess of it all

**Author's Note:**

> Following the prompts for the 25th:
> 
> Rough Sex/ Fancy Hotel/ "I've never lost control like that...I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

She watches him as he stands on the balcony, eyes staring aimlessly at the dark sky. He asked her to stay away, voice shaking, eyes blood red. And she did. Not for her sake, but for  _ his _ . 

It’s been two hours though since they stepped in this room. He’s already polished off two bottles of whiskey and he’s well into the third. At least the frame of shoulders has stopped vibrating.

She steps outside. It’s chillier than she thought-she can feel her skin grow gooseflesh all over.

“Chloe-” he says and it’s a warning. One she has no intention of heeding.

“I think I’ve given you more than enough time. Besides, you’re hoarding all the good alcohol,” she teases, trying to lighten his mood. When he turns to face her though she can tell at once that time alone was not a good idea. His eyes are still burning and his fury has settled like a second skin on him. “You were supposed to try to calm down. Not fester in your anger out here alone.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be good company, Detective. And I know that you had plans-”

“You think I care about that?” she admonishes softly, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “I hate seeing you this upset. We’re both here and we’re both fine so-” she stops when his fingers push the hem of her white satin robe to the side to reveal the deep scrape that runs along the line of her shoulder. Things could have been worse tonight. Her scrape and bruises will fade but that girl’s horror-almost Trixie’s age- will stay with her forever. 

But that’s not how he sees it.

His eyes look tortured as they focus on the slope of her shoulder and the pain she sees there leaks violently into the lines of his face, until he clenches his jaw- probably trying to hold back tears. 

Then in the blink of an eye, his pain morphs into wrath, an incandescent fury that threatens to burn everything in its path. 

“I wanted to hurt them,” he seethes. “I wanted them well and truly punished-for her  _ and  _ for you,” he continues, his anger going from simmering to boiling again and spilling onto his skin like lava, leaving behind burnt flesh and scorched ridges of muscle. She sighs, pain and love and sympathy coming together in a single exhale.

“I know, baby,” she tells him, her voice laced with an understanding that only she can provide-she who knows every facet of her precious gem of a man. She reaches for him but he catches her hand, his ravaged fingers turning into a vice around her wrist. 

“Please, don’t,” he says, and she’s instantly taken back to that night so long ago; when his scars had been all she could see. When she had realized that her partner was so much more than what he was trying to pretend to be. 

And when the idea of someone actually caring was simply inconceivable to him. 

She winces a little because that’s her bruised wrist- the one that was twisted violently and pushed behind her. He catches it, of course, and releases it immediately as if the mere touch stung.

“Chloe, I’m terribly sorry,” he whispers, back to anguished again. He makes to touch her again but pulls his hand back sharply.

“I’m fine,” she insists and reaches for him again. This time he doesn’t stop her. Her fingers smooth over his forehead and down the sides of his face, her thumbs caressing his cheekbones.

“How do you even want to be around me? After what you saw?” he asks and she knows that the guilt has started to settle in. She knows what it’s like being pulled by two such opposing emotions. This furious need to punish those who have hurt your loved ones and the overwhelming guilt that strangles you when you’re afraid of going too far.

She knows how easy it is to pick at these fraying edges and pull and pull until there’s nothing left of you.

“All I saw was you, my partner, protecting me once again. And I know that the sight you walked into did not help matters. But you stopped yourself before going too far. And I’m so proud of you.”

He scoffs at himself. “Are you proud of this, too?” he asks, voice scathing,  _ still  _ desperately testing her.

“Are you asking me whether I’m proud of the fact that you feel guilty over terrifying and bruising a bunch of would-be-rapists or worse?  _ Yes _ ,” she says emphatically. “Yes, I am. Because it’s just more proof of how _ good _ you are. Now,  _ come inside _ . I’m lonely.”

“No. Look at me. I can’t-not like this.”

“I’ll kiss it all better,” she says and kisses a line up the corded muscles of his neck.

“No. I can’t. Tonight… I've never lost control like that… I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. I’m still too angry.”

“Lucifer, if you think for a moment that I can’t handle anything you throw at me… you are sorely mistaken.”

“Chloe,” he warns again, voice and eyes sharper, as if he doesn’t know her. 

“What?” she challenges, bringing her body flush to his. She loves the heat emanating from his skin. Wants to feel it on her own.

“Stop. Go. Inside.” His voice is cutting, commanding but he is _ not _ a King here.

“You think that I can’t handle big, bad, scary Devil?”

“You cannot!” he thunders, towering over her, his eyes turning into a blaze again. 

She pushes him, putting her backbone into it. He stumbles back, surprised and the fire wilts away immediately.

“Do  _ not  _ underestimate me,” she orders and then pulls him down by his collar and kisses him. His response is immediate. One of his hands sinks into her hair, fingers twisting in the locks, while the other splays on the small of her back pushing her even closer to him. The heat from his hand seeps into her skin even with the robe as a barrier between them. She’s desperate to have his skin on hers. He pulls her hair back sharply, locking eyes with her.

“So, you want it rough, Detective?” he asks, voice gritty, eyes burning bright, excited, as he licks along her lower lip. “You really think you can handle it?”

“The question is whether  _ you _ can handle  _ me _ , Lucifer,” she tells him and bites into his lower lip, hard. He pushes her against the wall by the french doors where the curtain billows with the wind, his hand leaving her hair to wrap around her neck. 

He looks at her, silent and imposing but she can see the doubt creeping into his eyes.

“You’re thinking about this way too much, Lucifer. I want you. Always.” 

She lets her hand slip under her nightdress and his eyes follow its trail hungrily. She runs her fingers through her folds, gathering the wetness there and pushes a finger past her opening, just to tease herself. She sighs breathily and his thumb runs along the column of her throat. She knows the strength hiding behind his touch and it thrills her to know just how much he contains all that he is to be with her. 

She traces with her wet fingers the shape of his lips and watches as desire, raw and devastating, takes over. As she pulls her hand away he grabs it and brings her fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking away her taste ravenously.

“There’s more for you,” she whispers, the words just shy of a plea.

“For me?” he asks, deceptively calm, almost indifferent, as his fingers tighten infinitesimally around her neck. 

“ _ Only  _ for you,” she amends, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“That’s _ decidedly _ better,” he praises and sinks to his knees. He bunches the satin in his fist and licks a line up her inner thigh, his hot breath ghosting over wet lips that are aching for him.

“Beg,” he says simply, face so close to where she wants it. She runs her fingers over his scalp, missing and needing his hair so she can drag him exactly where she wants.

“No,” she says stubbornly, getting wetter and more desperate.

“Oh, you  _ will _ ,” he says and she believes him. The Devil is a man of his word. 

And then his mouth is on her and all conscious thought sizzles out. He doesn’t just eat her out. He ravages her. His tongue laps up greedily at her wetness and his lips suck viciously her swollen flesh. She teeters between pleasure and pain, the feeling intoxicating, ensnaring. 

She is his and he’s more than willing to drive the point home. She holds onto his forearms, moulded as they are on her hips, nails digging into his skin. She moans and trembles and he only becomes more wicked, more ruthless, holding her prisoner right at the edge. When her hands return to his head her fingers sink into thick locks and she pulls him forcefully to where she wants him. But he’s immovable. 

“ _ Please _ ,” she begs finally, just like he had promised. “Please, please, please,” she chants and he chuckles as his teeth graze her clit.

“Now, that’s some proper begging,” he says and goes back to his divine torture. She begs more, unable to tell anymore the difference between the two sensations. Pleasure and pain fuse into one and all she knows is that she wants _ more. _ When he brings her right at the edge again, he shows mercy and lets her tumble into her orgasm. She pulls him closer and this time he goes easily, as she trembles in ecstacy in his arms.

But he gives her no time.

He stands, the movement entirely too graceful, and slants his mouth against hers, his kiss fierce, domineering. One of his hands finds its place on her throat again while the other unbuckles quickly and efficiently his belt, then his button and zipper.

That same hand grabs her roughly and lifts her up, high enough for him to push into her with one long, hard thrust. It steals her breath away, both in pleasure and pain, which seems to be tonight's theme. 

"Too much?" he taunts, like the Devil others take him for.

"No," she groans, his each thrust _ more;  _ deeper, harder, faster _. _ He doesn't let up for a moment, his rhythm unrelenting. He only moves his hand to her hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, keeping her locked in his gaze.

The fire in them is mesmerizing and she can feel their heat searing her down to her very core. 

But the way his eyes pin her lets her know that his fury has a very specific recipient. She can feel it bleeding out of him, so intense that she can taste it in the breaths they share.

"Tell me," she urges. He stares at her with those scarlet eyes and she shivers because even if his skin feels feverish against hers, his anger runs ice cold and it chills her. She cups his cheek and asks again.

"Tell me. It's alright."

"You…” he seethes, nostrils flaring, “you should know better!" he raves and his eyes burn even brighter. "No gun, no  _ bloody _ vest, no  _ Devil _ . Just  _ you  _ against the bloody world,” he spits, horn-mad, his hips undulating. “You could have died tonight," he accuses righteously, absolutely wroth at her. "I could have lost you." 

He doesn't say forever, the jury is still out for that, but she can see the despair in his eyes. Death does not scare him, he has died for her twice already; but the idea of her getting hurt still terrifies him more than anything.

  
  


"I know," she whimpers as tears run down her cheeks. "You're right.” At her admission he stills, all his anger draining away, leaving behind only fear and heartache. “I was careless and stupid but they were going to rape that girl or even worse kill her and I could never live with myself had I done nothing. I’m sorry. I’m  _ so  _ sorry.”

"Chloe…" he croaks, his forehead touching hers. "I was terrified. I can't lose you. I  _ can't. _ " 

“You didn’t. You won’t. I’m right here,” she reassures and squeezes her legs around him, pulling him deeper inside her. He groans, his lips finding hers in a steamy kiss.

“Yes, you are,” he agrees. “Right where you belong.” 

He starts to move again, small, shallow thrusts that make her crave for more. “Full of life and warmth and so very wet. Do you still want to come?” he purrs, voice like sin.

“Yes,” she says, more a sigh than a word.

“And you still want it rough?”

“Yes.” 

Her legs tighten further around him and it’s all the confirmation he needs. He doesn’t build up to his previous rhythm- he resumes it at once, making her cry out as his cock hits her g-spot with every drag. When he grabs her ass and grinds against her she makes a keening sound low in her throat, her pleasure painting everything white hot.

“Liked that, did you?” he whispers, voice drunk, unsteady. 

She makes an inarticulate sound. 

He does it again and again and again-

and she falls, trusting and full of love, her pleasure blinding, and for a few precious moments there is only him,his scent, his taste, his lips, he all around her;

the sun in a solar system of two.

“I love you,” she breathes on his lips and it’s what tips him off. His hands tighten around her and she swallows his moans eagerly, wanting to taste the pleasure on his tongue. 

He pulls back to look at her, his beautiful eyes back to their warm brown, nothing but softness in his gaze.

“And I you,” he tells her and kisses her again, this time his lips soft, tender. He wraps his arms tightly around her, their bodies still one and walks inside.

“Would you consider a thigh holster with one of these tiny pistols that spies carry around?” he asks as he walks to the bathroom.

“Um, Lucifer I-”

“Don’t rush the decision Detective,” he says, squeezing her ass, before having her sit on the granite surface in the enormous, ridiculously opulent bathroom. “And please, for my sake, just take into account how incredibly hot you’d look with that strapped to your lovely thigh,” he says leaning into her and the way his eyes gleam with carnal fascination for  _ her _ makes her almost consider the idea. 

“I’ll think about it.”

"Lovely! Now, what do you desire? A walk and a post midnight culinary adventure? Take-out?" 

"I'm feeling lazy. But hungry too. Can you work with that?"

"Oh darling, I can work with anything!”

He works the knobs of the bathtub, testing the temperature. Once satisfied he lets the water fill it and retrieves his phone. 

He makes two phone calls, switching from english to french and back again, as his fingers run up and down her thighs. His voice is smooth, seductive and it  _ feels  _ delicious; like melted dark chocolate smeared on her lips- there but  _ not _ enough. 

He’s unbearably sexy and the bastard knows it. When he hangs up, a very smug smile stretches on his face. 

"Dinner will be here in almost an hour."

" _ However _ are we going to keep ourselves busy," she wonders, fanning herself theatrically while letting her robe slip past her shoulders.

"How indeed," he agrees with a wolfish smile and starts to sing.

_ Lady Marmalade.  _

She laughs and he sings the water runs cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from this,
> 
> shadow & sugar…
> 
> you are  
> allowed to be  
> a many-layered thing…  
> to have texture and shades.  
> to be kissed by the sunlight  
> and bitten by the moon  
> and to feel all the different  
> ways that you feel,  
> all the raw and tender  
> mess of it all.  
> to let all of that shadow  
> and sugar be in you and the  
> pretty and dirty and beautiful  
> and wild run through you  
> and spill out of you  
> everywhere, all at once…  
> to just let yourself be a  
> soft and wild thing.
> 
> – butterflies rising


End file.
